Chapter 11
The faint lights of a town glimmered in the distance, wavering like a mirage; the outline of the buildings black against the orange backdrop of the setting sun. A haze of heat cradled the glowing orb, a giant hand holding the day, slowing its descent into darkness. Momentarily mesmerized by the beauty of the sunset, Ruth eased the pressure of her foot off the accelerator, and the car slowed down. A cough from Harry startled her and she returned her eyes to the road. Having gained her attention, Harry pointed to a spot further down the highway. A bombed out building lay crumbling under the weight of neglect, and he motioned for her to pull over into the tattered yard. She manoeuvred the car around a dilapidated wall, the wheels crunching over broken brick and debris. She killed the engine, and with the hum of machinery gone, a tense silence settled around them. As the end of the journey neared, their conversation had all but evaporated, words seeming superfluous at that point. Ruth was in no hurry to leave the safety of the car, relishing the moment of peace before wholeheartedly committing herself to Harry's scheme. Unfortunately, they could not stay in the car forever. Harry checked the magazine of his gun, and then examined hers. Satisfied with the state of both weapons, he grabbed the binoculars from the dashboard.
"Ready?" Harry asked.
It was a rhetorical question, she had no choice. She nodded her agreement. Harry reached for the door handle and stepped out of the car. Collecting her water bottle from her laptop case, Ruth followed behind him. The deep purple outline of her shadow stretched out before her as she walked around to his side of the car. Elbows propped up on the roof of the vehicle, Harry scanned the road behind them with the binoculars. She leaned back against the vehicle, taking a moment to rest, hoping to find her second wind.
"What if we're wrong?" she asked quietly.
"You're the one who made the calculations." Harry fiddled with the lenses of the binoculars.
"I remember you saying I'm not infallible." It was a half-hearted attempt at humour. "The calculation was all a bit like working out if train A leaves the station at this time..."
"Word problems," Harry mumbled. "Bane of my existence."
"They're simple really if you reduce them down to an algebraic equation."
Harry gave her a sidelong glance, and her voice trailed off. She twisted the cap off the water bottle and raised it to her lips. Before she could take a drink, Harry absently put out his hand, and she handed the bottle to him. Keeping his eyes on the road, he took a long swig, his Adam's apple bobbing as the water trickled down his throat. He handed her the bottle and drew the heel of his hand across his chin to catch a stray drop. Ruth took a sip, not bothering to wipe off the mouth of the bottle, her lips drinking from the same spot where his lips had rested. At this rate, any boundaries left between them would disappear with the setting sun. There was a streak of dirt across his cheek, and she quelled the urge to lick her thumb and scrub it away. Her face was probably just as dirty. In the distance, the smokeless stacks of the abandoned power plant rose like forgotten obelisks. Was the uranium already there? Or was it still in transit as she had projected? Ruth shivered; a combination of the cooling night air and the realisation of the dangerous task that loomed before them. Harry set the binoculars on the car roof and removed his field jacket.
"Here."
"I can't take it."
"Don't be stubborn."
Relenting, she took the jacket from him and slipped it on. Layers of the day rose from the weave of the rough canvas; petrol fumes and desert dust and the musk of the man who had been wearing it. She sank deeper into the fabric, letting it embrace her, hoping to absorb some of his strength. Harry returned his attention to monitoring the road, and she slyly studied him. The large silver band of his watch stood out against his wrist, the metal refracting the low rays of the sun. That watch had taken down a man. It was strange to see him out of his suit and in a black t-shirt. The breadth of his chest was outlined underneath the cotton, his biceps visible as he crooked his arms to look out through the binoculars. Not overly muscular but certainly strong enough to overpower her. An aura of tension crackled around him; a predator on the hunt, exercising a controlled patience as he lay in wait for his prey. It was all slightly mercenary. Tearing her eyes away, Ruth shifted her attention to the other side of the horizon. The sun, as stubborn as she, refused to succumb to the night and acknowledge its dominance.
"Shalim," she whispered.
"What?"
"The god of dusk."
Harry kept his eyes trained on the road as he spoke. "You are the most infuriating woman I have ever met."
"Me? How?" She turned her head to him. "What have I done?"
"Apparently, you had to travel halfway across the planet to find your missing spirit of romance."
Ruth drew her head back with indignation. "I've always had a spirit of romance."
"In the abstract, maybe."
"Is that why you brought me here?" The words tumbled from her lips, exhaustion and hunger and the workings of Shalim crowding out the editor that would normally control her thoughts. "To seduce me?"
Before she could blink, Harry spun around and slapped his hand on the car next to her shoulder. With his arms on either side of her, she was effectively trapped. Her mouth opened in surprise and she stepped back trying to fold herself into the metal of the vehicle, wishing to heaven she had not uttered those last words. He brought his head down, his lips a fraction away from hers.
"Is that the kind of man you think I am?" he snarled at her.
His words rasped against her cheek, and her heart thudded in a tattoo of panic. He had been angry at her before but not like this. Simmering under the surface of his frustration was a baser need, one barely kept in check by civility. She had poked the bear and now stood between his paws, he could finish her off with one bite. Closing her eyes, she remained perfectly still hoping that he would let her go, and return to his reconnaissance. He was tired and on edge just like her. But he didn't let her go, instead, he pressed in closer.
"Don't you think if I had brought you here to seduce you I would-?"
He cut himself off, leaving the sentence unfinished, but she didn't need to hear the rest. If he had wanted to seduce her, he could have succumbed to the heat of the previous night, and taken her on the hotel room floor. The image of them wrapped together on the carpet sent a wave of fire burning through her skin. She was surrounded by him, in his coat, his arms like barricades. There was no space to move, his body touching hers, only the fabric of his jacket separating them. They were on the edge of a knife, the ride through the desert, the waiting, nerves strung tight. She swayed slightly, her own body looking for an outlet from the tension. She subtly pressed her leg against his in wordless invitation, his thigh answering back. In the stillness of the night, she could hear his breathing, her own breath becoming erratic. They could do it here, against the car, witnessed only by the god of dusk. Her mind caught up with her body; the realisation hit her that she had unconsciously baited him. Steeling her muscles, she held her arms rigid, refusing to give in to the impulse to reach up and and pull him down to her mouth. She squeezed her eyes tighter, banishing the thoughts, but he knew what she was thinking.
"You're stuck in that head of yours. Overthinking everything. It makes you a brilliant analyst but you'll never be able to solve the riddle of the human heart until you allow yourself to feel."
Stung by his comment, her eyes flew open, wide with hurt. She had feelings. She had feelings for him. Her bottom lip trembled. Damn it, she couldn't cry. Not now. Not when she needed every ounce of her concentration focused on the mission at hand. She closed her mouth, knowing that if she made the slightest movement her lips would touch his.
An engine rumbled in the distance. Instantly on the alert, Harry's head shot up. He stepped away from her and went back to looking through the binoculars, focused on his duty as if nothing had happened between them. Ruth collapsed against the car. Like a switch, he toggled back and forth, where she dare not even turn it on. She looked down at the ground and swallowed the lump of hurt that sat in her throat. Did he think her incapable of emotion, devoid of passion? She could have proved him wrong, leaned in and kissed him. But she hadn't. He was right. She lived in her head. God, how she hated that man.
"There they are."
He passed the binoculars to her, and she turned around. Scanning the horizon, she picked out a white lorry lumbering in the distance. Wordlessly, she handed the glasses back to him and walked around to the other side of the car. She knew her role. She carefully backed the vehicle out onto the road, leaving it across the lanes, cutting off the passage. She got out of the car and adjusted the scarf around her head. Belatedly, she realised she was still wearing Harry's jacket and hastily removed it, tossing it into the car. Harry walked over to her and handed her the gun.
"Tuck it in behind you," he ordered.
Ruth took the gun and slipped it into the waistband of her trousers. It was cold and hard against her spine. The metal should have strengthened her resolve but it only underscored the fragility of the human body. She would never be able to use the gun against a man. Harry went to the front of the car and popped open the bonnet, crossed to the other side of the vehicle and crouched down. Ruth stood, arms folded against the cool air, nervously waiting for the van to approach. Even though Harry was on the other side of the car, she felt utterly alone. In theory, the driver would stop and offer assistance to a single female. She and Harry had not spoken of any other possible scenarios - whoever was driving the truck could just as easily pull a gun on her, or the manifest could have been logged incorrectly, there could be more than two men with the shipment. Or the men could do something far worse.
The headlights of the van snaked around a bend, the beams illuminating its path on the road. Ruth's heart rose to her throat. She swallowed and closed her eyes, inhaling a deep breath. Stay calm. Stay calm. She opened her eyes. The headlights sliced through the growing dusk, blinding her. She raised a hand to shield her eyes. Don't run away. The van continued to barrel along the road, seemingly impervious to her presence. Without turning around, she spoke to Harry
"It's not slowing down."
"Wait for it."
Her brain told her to run, to get out of the way of the two tons of steel racing down the road, but the hard metal against her spine told her to stay. The van slowed down, air brakes squeaking through the silence of the twilight. It rolled to a stop. No one got out. The headlights remained trained on Ruth limiting the scope of her vision. She opened her mouth to speak but her voice refused. She cleared her throat and spoke hoarsely in Arabic.
"My car has broken down."
The truck revved its engine. Logic told her to flee. But where would she go? Stick with the plan.
"I think it's the engine."
A man descended from the van. After he had taken a few steps, Ruth noticed that he was carrying a rifle. She instinctively put up her hands.
"It's just me. I don't have anything." Her voice shook slightly. "Can you look at the engine for me?"
"What's a woman doing out here alone?" The man asked suspiciously, speaking in stilted Arabic.
"I didn't mean for this to happen. It was daylight when I started…" She shrugged her shoulders. "You know how women are."
The last sentence assuaged the man's suspicions and he gave her a smile that verged on a leer, damsel in distress that she was. He yelled a few words to his partner in the van. Russian. He was speaking Russian. The first hint that they might have the right shipment. He walked past her to the front of the car. Slinging the rifle over his shoulder, he bent down to look at the engine. Ruth came and stood beside him. Harry appeared from the other side of the car, his gun trained on the man.
"Tell your friend to get out of the van."
The man backed away from Harry and spun around to Ruth. She held her gun up at him. The man yelled a warning to his partner. The van engine turned over and it lurched forward. Suprised by the motion, Harry's attention was drawn to the van. Taking advantage of the distraction, the man jumped on Harry and the two men struggled with each other before falling to the ground. Ruth stood with the gun in her hand not knowing what to do. The van kicked into gear and drove off of the road and into the desert, wheels spinning in the sand as it tried to gain traction. Harry's voice called to Ruth as he grappled with the man.
"Get the van," he yelled.
Ruth froze with indecision. Was she supposed to jump in the car and follow the van?
"Shoot the van," Harry angrily shouted.
The vehicle was careening around them, racing to the other side of the road, swerving as the dirt impeded its movement. Ruth lifted her gun and aimed it at the truck. Her arm shook uncontrollably. Remembering Harry's instructions, she cupped the gun with both hands. Her muscles still wavered. Swearing in frustration, she rested her hand on top of the car and used the solidity of the vehicle to steady her aim. Valuable time had been lost; the van had almost circled back onto the road. She closed her eyes and fired off a shot. Idiot. Rule number one; keep your eyes open. The sound of fist meeting bone, and grunts of pain came from the two men behind her. She ignored them and focused on the gun. Eyes open, hand steady, she fired. Metal twanged in response. She set off another round. And then another. A tire popped and the truck swerved as the driver tried to control it. She watched in amazement, astounded that she had managed to hit anything. The van careened back into the dirt and spun around, tipping precariously to one side. The driver tried to right it, but gravity ruled, and the truck tipped over. Metal crashed together as the van skidded along in the sand, great plumes of dust rising above it. Ruth spun around to the men behind her. Harry had the other man pinned down. He drew back his hand and clubbed the man on the temple with the butt of his revolver. Ruth winced as the man's body went limp. Harry looked around and stopped when he saw her standing by the car. Wiping a trickle of blood off of his bottom lip, he stood up and walked over to her. She smiled at him and looked off over the top of the car. Harry looked in the direction and saw the van. He smiled back at her.
"Come on."
Harry slammed the bonnet of the car closed and went around to the passenger side. Ruth got in the driver side. Apparently, this was to be the new world order. She drove as close as safely possible to the overturned truck, unsure of the fate of the driver. Harry exited their car, holding his gun in front of him, and then motioned for Ruth to follow him. She grabbed the torch, keeping a few paces behind Harry. Steam hissed from the engine, as they cautiously approached. The driver lay unconscious in the front seat, the side window cracked where his head had met the glass. Harry went around to the back of the van. He fired a round at the locked doors. Ruth squeezed her eyes as her ears rang with the echo of the shot. Harry pried open the doors and went inside. She held the door open, shining the torch around to illuminate the inside of the van. Boxes lay half opened, packages of food scattered about. Harry pushed a box aside and dug then through the rest, stopping when he neared the front of the van. He looked back at Ruth. Moving halfway into the van, she aimed the light in his direction, the beam refracting off a metal surface. It was a large industrial box. Using the butt of his gun, Harry banged at the lock. It popped open. Inside the box, cushioned by foam, lay three steel canisters.
"We found it." Harry sat back on his haunches, taking a moment to collect himself.
"Be careful," cautioned Ruth.
"I'm not going to open them."
Looking back, he smiled at her with a triumphant grin. "We did it."
A small laugh escaped her lips as she tried to control her euphoria."We did it," she agreed.
Tension eased from her body as she leant against the side of the van, secretly pleased that her calculation had been correct, the thrill of victory running through her. The smile fell from Harry's lips, her own grin following. A second beam of light shot through the dimness of the van. Alarmed, Ruth turned to the source but was blinded by the beam. Harry raised his gun.
"Oh, Harry." A deep voice chastised them through came from the darkness. The light was lowered revealing Mani, a gun in his hand. "We invited you to the party and you had to go and spoil the surprise."
Mani motioned with his gun for them to exit the van. Ruth gave Harry a look of unmitigated horror, but he calmly nodded for her to do as Mani had instructed. As she climbed out of the vehicle she saw that Mani was not alone. An American jeep sat on the road, and in front of it stood Ronnie and McCaul.
"I told you we shouldn't have brought them here," Ronnie said.
"You said he was a straight shooter," Libby answered. "We needed his credibility."
At the sight of the men, anger coursed through Ruth's veins, and her body shook with frustration. How had they caught up with them? The plan had been perfect. She had overcome every obstacle that had been put in her way. She had rooted out information, put the pieces together, trekked halfway across the country, and found the uranium. She and Harry deserved to succeed.
"Jesus, Harry," said Ronnie, "Why did you have to go off like that? We had everything worked out."
"We can still salvage this," said Libby.
"Salvage what exactly?" Harry asked. "Another potentially catastrophic lie?"
"This country is coming apart at the seams." Libby took a menacing step closer. "If we don't stay and control things it'll descend into anarchy."
"By control, you mean controlling the oil supply." Harry turned to Mani. "Isn't that why you're here?"
"Isn't that why we're all here?" Mani countered.
"You've bent the rules before, Harry," said Ronnie. "You can do it again."
"And if I don't?"
"It a pretty dangerous territory out here," said Mani. "Bands of insurgents, IEDs…."
"You did take off without us." McCaul raised his hands in abdication. "No escort to protect you."
Ruth looked at Harry, unable to hide the panic that was rising within her.
"Ruth has been in contact with a member of the press," Harry countered calmly. "If anything happens to us-"
"Come on, Harry." McCaul scoffed. "You trust the press as much as we do."
"It's true," Ruth agreed. "I gave all the information to a reporter from the Post. She's at Maude House right now."
"Is that so?" Libby walked over to the car. He opened the door and pulled out the laptop case. "And how are you going to prove any of this?" He extracted the laptop and held it up in the air.
A bolt of panic shot through Ruth's body, and she lurched towards McCaul, only to be caught in the grip of Mani's hand. She struggled but Mani was stronger than her.
"You can't take that," she yelled. "Its property of MI5."
"Its property of the CIA now, sweetheart," McCaul taunted.
McCaul dropped the laptop on the road. It bounced as it hit the asphalt, the hinges cracking, a piece flying off the corner.
"No!" Ruth screamed. A part of her had chipped away with the fragment from the laptop. All of her research was on that machine, she had managed to protect it for so long, and she couldn't let it be destroyed now. She struggled against Mani but he tightened his grip on her, using both of his arms to subdue her.
"Your analyst is quite the little spitfire," Mani observed through gritted teeth.
"I'm sure it spices up other areas of your relationship, doesn't it, Harry," Ronnie commented with an insinuating grin.
"Maybe we should find that out for ourselves," Mani suggested.
Mortified, Ruth froze. Harry stepped forward.
"Let her go," Harry growled
Mani shook his head. "She knows too much."
"Wait," Ronnie directed Mani. "All you have to do, Harry, is play the game. Say you found a facility for uranium enrichment here and we might let her go."
"Our chopper is going to be here any minute," McCaul interjected. "If an accident is going to happen, it's got to be now."
He pulled out a gun and fired five shots into the laptop, effectively destroying the hard drive. A whimper left Ruth's lips, and she slumped under Mani's grip. All her work, the charts and cross-referenced documents, the trail leading to the source of the weapons and the uranium – gone.
In the distance, the faint whirr of blades cut through the night air. She looked at Harry, shaking her head, telling him not to give up the integrity of the mission in order to spare her. He looked at her angrily, silently telling her it was his choice. The helicopter grew louder. Time had run out. Harry squinted up at the sky as a black dot appeared on the horizon.
"Change of plans, Harry," said Libby. "Looks like you're going to be our guest for a while."
"People are going to ask questions," said Ronnie.
"We blow up their car - roadside bomb," said McCaul. "We can stash them at our site outside of Cape Town."
McCaul was going to fake their deaths and send them off to some black site in South Africa. They would never be heard from again. Her eyes found Harry's, and she silently mouthed his name, pleading with him to do something. He clenched his jaw, stoic to the end. She wanted to run to him, feel the comfort of his arms wrapped around her; she may never see him again. She should have kissed him when she had the chance. She should have done that and so much more. She hung her head, biting her bottom lip. She couldn't cry, not in front of these men.
The deafening roar of the helicopter approached, a bird of doom descending on the desert. It hovered for a moment, the bright beam of its searchlight trained on them. The helicopter slowly descended, dust rising, their clothes billowing, eyes burning from the sand. The blades slowed but the clouds of dust lingered. Out of the haze strode am imposing figure, followed by two soldiers carrying a large container between them. The dust settled, revealing the man.
"Hope you're pleased with yourself, Pearce," barked Waterhouse. "Treating her Majesty's forces like a personal taxi service."
Harry smiled at the Colonel. "It's in the van."
Libby and Ronnie stepped back, a look of panic crossing their faces. Mani's grip on Ruth slackened, and she rubbed her arms where his fingers had dug into the flesh. As the soldiers approached, Ruth's heart lifted in her chest, air returned to her lungs, and she thought she might cry with joy.
Waterhouse walked up to Harry, a cigar hanging out of the corner of his mouth. "Christ man, look at you - in the middle of the desert and you've still got a bird in tow."
Waterhouse cast a look at Ruth, but at that moment in time she didn't care how he referred to her, she had never been so happy to see anyone in her life. Waterhouse shook his head disparagingly at Harry and then motioned for his team to follow him. After the British team had moved away, McCaul stepped forward, his firearm concealed.
"You think you're pretty smart, don't you, Harry?"
"This is what's going to happen," said Harry. "No one is ever going to talk of this. The uranium was being smuggled into the country by insurgents. We uncovered the plot. It is now the property of the British government."
"That's a pretty big gamble," Mani pointed out. "We know you have it. We could still come after you."
"I wouldn't advise it," Harry warned. "I've told the Ambassador. Downing Street already knows."
"It's going to be on your head, Harry," McCaul warned. "If this country falls apart, it's going to be because of you."
"Better the Arabs do it tolerably than you do it perfectly," Harry countered.
Ruth's heart strained in her chest, threatening to spill over with emotion. He had quoted Lawrence. God, she loved him.
"It's not over, Harry," McCaul cautioned. "I don't like to be played with."
"Neither do I." Turning away from McCaul, Harry reached out his hand. "Come on, Ruth."
Ruth stepped away from Mani, hoping to never see the man again. Holding her head high, she walked past McCaul and Ronnie and took Harry's hand. Without looking back, they headed to the helicopter, ready to be flown into the desert night.
